


FIGHT ME GODDAMNIT

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Crying, Gen, Tom is unstable, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6301756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.</p><p>Post-The End Pt2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIGHT ME GODDAMNIT

He was absolutely tiny. Tord wondered how he got into this situation.

The bastard stank of alcohol, worthlessly flailing his limbs. His empty eyes were shedding big, bubble tears. He didn't even try to hide it. But Tord knew he wasn't sad, no, he was pissed off. He held Tom by the collar at a good distance, his left arm hanging down. With a robotic hand like that he could easily end the farce right here.

"I hate you! I _hate_ you!" His face was soaked with sweat and tears and snot. Somewhere deep down Tord wanted to hold him close and say everything was alright.

But he wouldn't. He wouldn't give in to his emotions. They were stupid.

"Let-let go of me!" Clearly Tom's eyes were drawn towards a flask of Smirnoff on the ground. It was Christmas - Tom did this every year. Got drunk, sat on the roof and fired into the sky like a maniac. Honestly if Tord hadn't been walking across the street Tom would have stayed there all night. If only Tom hadn't seen him in his blurred vision and come stumbling over, mind in absolute shambles.

Tord began to slowly lower Tom down, but somehow he only began to cry harder. _"Do not fucking pity me!"_

"You're acting like a kid, Tom. I thought you wanted me to put you down."

"I'm gonna kill you, Tord!" He slurred his words, throwing a fist to Tord's face. It hurt, yes, but Tord refused to show any level of pain. "I hate you! Go die! Suck a fat one!" His face was red with temper and alcohol, and absolutely moist.

He threw Tom to the ground harshly. Immediately he spewed vomit onto his sweater.

"I'm going to- I'm going- I'll- I-" His body slowed, expression now scrunched into the center of his face - brows pointed downward and lips curled. He covered his face. "Why'd that have to happen?"

Easily, Tord could have killed him now. He just...didn't want to.

Silently, he slid over the alcohol, right next to Tom's shaking hands.

"You want it?"

Like a cow sucking milk from its mothers udder, Tom shoved the neck of the flask into his mouth, tipping the end of it to the sky. His whole body shook as he swallowed the impairing ichor. As soon as it emptied, he dropped it to the ground.

He nervously scratched his fingers through his hair, shouting swear words. Tord watched him, absolutely emotionless. Yet...there was a pit in his stomach somewhere.

"I'll fight you when you're sober, alright?"

Tom whined, hacking watery bile to his side. Tord repeated himself. "Alright?"

"Mm." 

Tord laid on the grass next to him, holding his arms out. Tom immediately latched onto him. He couldn't regret something he wouldn't remember tomorrow.

Nothing was said. By tomorrow it'd be forgotten.


End file.
